


Spontaneous

by Stensbrough



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, someone should tell him that???, stanley uris deserves the world, stanley uris is brave, stanley uris is not a coward, stenbrough if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stensbrough/pseuds/Stensbrough
Summary: Set pre-It 2017, Stanley Uris just wants to make things okay again for his best friend. That, however, takes a little bit of courage and he only has so much.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Stan Uris/Bill Denbrough
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

> hello so....this is my first piece here and honestly, it's not very long but i just wanted to post a lil something to showcase my writing ig??? i'm so bad at writing ship content so most of my pieces will probably be just simplistic little one shots but yeah...enjoy this! p.s. i love stanley uris :)

Sometimes Stanley Uris did things that shocked him, even. 

Some days, he would give up sacred bird watching time to help his mother around the house . . Or he would bike to Richie’s house, only to feel that pang of regret later as he babbled on about something he didn’t quite understand. 

His mother said it stemmed from compassion — he preferred to believe he was spontaneous. Stanley Uris had never been spontaneous and he craved that feeling miserably. Bill was spontaneous; some days he would wake and act with no plans in mind. He would simply let the day guide him and Stan wished he could do the same.

But his life had been a series of routines since the age of six. He so  _ desperately _ wanted to break it, be extempore and let his day come to him. It was useless, however, as he crawled out of bed said morning and began his day. 

So maybe it  **_was_ ** compassion. Stanley could believe that while his feet worked at the pedals, mind racing — he pondered over what he would say, what he would do upon arrival. He let it go for the time being and decided to —  _ “live in the moment, Stanny!” _ Richie’s incredibly irritable voice rang through his ears and the boy exhaled. As much as he wished figment-of-his-imagination Richie would go away, maybe he had a point. He decided then and there that what he wanted to say or do would simply roll off his tongue or come to him in time of need.

Bike coming to a halt, he removed himself from the seat and perched it against the bridge. He quickly prayed that no one would spot it there, resting far too elegantly to belong to another aside from the Uris child. If Bowers caught sight, he would  _ surely _ be in for a hell of a beating and his mind was already far too jumbled to take it. 

White sneakers hit the dirt and Stan took hold of any tree limbs he could find to steady his balance. It was merely moments later that he found himself at the bottom of the trees, teetering between feet as his eyes stared deep into the barrens. 

_ “I f-figured it out, Stan,” Bill had spoken last week, tapping his pencil on the corner of his desk. “The barrens. I-i-it’s the only place where Georgie c-could’ve ended up.”  _

So here he stood, nothing but a flashlight and his wits. It wasn’t much but it was all he could manage, alongside the wave of courage that had been bubbling in him since he awoke this morning.

He entered the barrens, water sloshing beneath his feet and his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

“Uh, hello?” Stan squeaked out, flicking the light on and revealing the passage in front of him. It was dark and dirty and the path seemed like it went on for miles. Truthfully, he didn’t want to find out what was awaiting at the end. His rationality wanted to leave his body and punch him right in the stomach.  _ Where are you going?!  _ It shouted, Stanley’s feet trudging through the greywater.  _ Get back here, you don’t know what’s in there!  _ And there it was; the fear of not knowing. He wished he knew, he wished he knew, he wished he knew.

His heart was beating apace, fingers of his free hand tapping in intervals of three on his thigh. Stan so desperately wanted to go home and he could. There was no one there to stop him, no one to guilt trip him into staying for the ‘fun of the group’. If he had a dollar everytime Richie pulled that one. He had all of the control in the situation and yet, his feet moved forward not back.

“Is anyone in here?” Stanley called out into the vast darkness. He was met with his echo. He realized then just how far he’d managed to have walked because when he turned around, the light from the entrance had become dim. Something or  _ someone _ pulled him from his thoughts, the boy turning straight ahead again. The sound of giggles echoed around him; he looked from the ceiling to the ground. It was tenebrous; pitch black, aside from light illuminating the flashlight, “Georgie?” He was hopeful. “Is that you?” 

He wanted to leave now more than ever. Stan took three steps back and then, he heard it again. Children giggling, what he presumed to be about the age of Georgie, maybe younger. Laughter — life! A flicker of a smile flashed across his face. 

“Georgie?! Where are you, I can’t..” he tapped the flashlight with the palm of his hand, causing it to brighten. “I can’t see you, where are you?” And this time, the response was a harsh silence. No giggling, no sloshing of the water beneath him; just pure, heart-shattering silence. 

Stan retracted his early movement, taking three steps forward again and even three more after that. He was desperate, clinging onto some false hope that he had heard Georgie in the barrens. That he was here and he was alive. But why? Ah,  _ that _ was the key, Stanley knew. Why was Georgie Denbrough giggling in the barrens? Why wasn’t he crying out for Stan’s help? He knew what the boy sounded like, they’d met each other many times and yet.. 

That false hope was diminishing, every second that passed in silence kicked Stanley Uris in the gut until his optimism lay in the water. He felt defeated and perhaps he was. If only he’d known now what the next month would bring him and his friends. 

“Please,” he adjured, “please be in here. Bill said–” Ah, yes. And there it was. It smacked him like a ton of bricks but it made sense. Bill was the reason he was here. Bill was brave, maybe if Stan was brave too, he would —  _ what? _ His conscience was eating at him again.  _ Find Georgie? Bring him home? Bill has been doing that for months and he’s found nothing! _ His own mind was taunting him. Stan could practically hear the pity in it’s voice.  _ Bill has been brave since the day you met and he can’t succeed. What makes you think you can, bird boy? Just because you play leader for one day? _

“God, shut  **_up_ ** ,” Stan spewed to himself, fingers tapping at a rapid rate now. “Please come home, Georgie,” his mind laughed at him again. So desperate, so weak. 

“Bill needs you and I miss him, please come home.” 

_ Bill’s slipping away from you, they all are. Soon they’ll be gone, Stan. _

“Stop,” his teeth were clenched, he stared straight ahead into the vast nothing, “be brave, be brave, be brave.”

But Stan wasn’t brave at all. So that’s what he would be, it seemed. Stan, not Stanley. No, Stanley was a man.. one who was brave and fought for the things he wanted. Stanley was who he wanted to be, not who he was. He was  _ just _ Stan. 

Just Stan, running from his feelings. Just Stan, pleading for his best friend back or rather, the thing that would bring his best friend back.

Stanley Uris missed Bill Denbrough — he missed his taps at his window at eight in the morning. He missed their rides home together. He missed Bill’s smile, laughter that would stretch for miles, Stanley thought — laughter that he knew by heart. He missed Bill Denbrough and not even he could bring him back. 

  
_ Of course you can’t. _ He sighed at his conscience again. Light irradiated his features, trekking through the trees again. He could see his bike, perched perfectly amongst the gravel. He was relieved.  _ You’re just Stan and Stan is a coward. _


End file.
